


A Lifetime In Your Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Milex - Fandom, The Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Angst, Flashback, Leonard Cohen - Freeform, M/M, Memories, Sadness, Tears, This is nothing really, Unresolved Emotional Tension, anyway since i know how important leo for miles and alex are i made this, boys crying through the phone, death mention, i feel a bit disappointed that no one wrote a milex fic after such a sad thing :(, long description, long monologues, milex - Freeform, post eycte, this is for Leonard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's the night in which Alex Turner and Miles Kane find out about Leonard Cohen's death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes mostly to one of the greatest lyricist the world has ever faced. RIP Leonard Cohen. You will be truly missed.
> 
> Inspired by [this.](https://twitter.com/mileskanemusic/status/514514635668860928)  
> Songs mentioned: _Memories_ and _Slow_ both by Leonard Cohen. Give a good read to the lyrics of that second one, [here.](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/leonardcohen/slow.html)

 

November, Los Angeles  

_2:19 a.m._

It's late, or some might say it's getting early. Tho' it isn't the first night Alex finds himself up at such a a dark hour after midnight. Those last few days have always ended, or started, for him like that.

And he has to try very hard not to think about how similar his situation is to how it was 8 years ago, at the ending of his tour. He found many, innumerable sleepless nights ahead of him. Nights of worry and ferment. Those nights where you’re not sure whether to blame the complete silence or the soft background and everyday sounds for your nagging restfulness. With envious eyes he'd look at the person sleeping beside him, whom he remembered very well, in a similar place and setting as the one next to him right now.  

Maybe there was no one to blame. Or maybe the one to blame was that absent person. He didn't like to think it that way. He didn't like to feel so defenceless in trying to stir that thought away, but it crept up on him every night. Over and over again.

So he blames it on himself, just like he did those nights 8 years ago. He turned it all on himself and refused to spend the hours trying to find solutions, which would only lead to more hesitant doubts. He knows pretty well the only thing able to putll him out of that vice would be a distraction. Any kind of distraction.

Concluding it all like he always used to, he starts to think 'progressive' again, and decided to maybe waste his time on something he did best and needed most.

He finds himself sat at his desk, notebook in his hands, and the pen's cap trapped between his nibbling teeth.

He could nearly laugh for how much it all reminds him of exactly 8 years ago. It was those same sleepless nights, just with a different person in his bed, another endless jumble of complex words in his notes, but always the same person in his mind.  

And no matter the struggle, and pressure, and angst he felt during those nights, they resulted in the cause for the beginning of what some people defined as his deepest lyrics. He wasn't particularly fond of his 3rd album with his band, but there was no denying that that record was mostly created due to his insomnia at that time.

Maybe that's what's going to follow again soon?

But something feels off.  

It's dark, and dull, both in his surroundings and a space inside him. He isn't sure what it’s about tonight, but he can feel something is missing. Something is wandering further away from him. He can perceive a strange feeling of dreadfulness all over him, like a black cloud that chose to stop wandering tonight and halt right above his head.

Alex sighs and rests his pen on the table. He runs both his hands through his hair as he contemplates everything set in front of him on the table. His eyes fall to his mobile phone and he picks it up without thinking too much about it. He likes to shift the blame on this particular device in case he won't find enough words on his page, he knows it is a big cause of distraction for many people.

With that harmless thought tickling in his mind he automatically presses his thumb into the BBC news app, but all vanishes when he sees Leonard Cohen's face on a pic of the main news. Reading fast through the headline he finds it out: _'Leonard Cohen died at the age of 82'_.

In the time it takes him to frown, then relax his features, opening his eyes in shock, and then relax them again, he’s read it already 3 times. A half muttered 'what' leaves his mouth as he turns his head around to his room, considering sharing the news with his girlfriend, but he quickly washes the idea away as he realises how stupid it'd be to wake someone up for this. And his eyes fall on the pic again. Back on the headline, and he quickly starts to read the article before he senses that dull ache in his chest taking a firmer and more definite shape now. He lets out a breath and feels like his instincts knew it all along before him. He looks at Leonard's face again and lets out a breath, and his eyes start to feel teary as he tries to read the article again. But his brain can't concentrate.  

He feels his lower lip gently quivering, and he wants to suppress it all. He shakes his head and mumbles a silent 'what the fuck' to himself. He holds his breath and stares at his wall in front of him, with wide eyes.  

And he thinks about Miles. Again.  

He can't keep him off his mind, not with all the songs of Leonard flashing through his mind, all his words of love and hate, his LPs, and what Miles brought to him with that. All the memories that connected him and Miles through these years, all the words that inspired him to new directions. They lost one of the greatest lyricist, one of his greatest inspirations, and most meaningful artist, who taught such new ways of developing and sharing his passions. And Miles was always with him, through the whole journey.

If it wasn't for Miles he might have never considered Leonard Cohen under so much inspection as a writer.

With memories flooding in his mind he moves quickly to his contacts and to Miles' caller ID. He hoovers his thumb above the call button, but one fast glance at the time and he goes for the text button.

His eyes wander around the blank message space, then he turns his head one more time around and back again. His thoughts are fighting, conflicting. He feels confused and lost on what to do, how to react. He lets a shaky breath out before he finds himself typing.

 _'Miles...'_ Is all he manages to put out there and before even thinking about it, he sends it.

It takes one minute of him trying to hold his breath, which he eventually finds out to be some weird way to suppress his sobs, before his phone lights up and Miles is calling him.

He answers. "Did you-"  

The words he was planning to say die down on his lips as he hears Miles' voice. He sighs Alex's name so softly, so full of sadness, Alex understands it all. He knows.

He nods, no matter if Miles can't see him. "Yeah... at such a miserly hour."

"Fucking timing." Miles chuckles, tho' more darkly than how he'd usually would. And Alex lets out a breath accentuated with laughter as well, and he feels his eyes getting teary again.

"I just found out..." He mumbles.

"I just saw that as well" Miles interrupts him. "I couldn't get any sleep and I... just felt like you'd be the only one to understand if I call you."

"Fuck..." Alex feels like he's talking with his own self located in some other part of the world. He shakes his head. "That was just happening here as well, Mi..." He sighs. "Fuckin' telepathy."

Miles laughs softly and gets the phone some inches away, Alex can hear. Maybe it's impossible for them to have a conversation without any laughter surrounding it's edges. "In the worst of times!" He adds, and then goes slowly silent again.

Alex knows that if they'd be together right now, they'd probably share that silence, touch and stroke one another's shoulder or leg, or maybe just hold hands or hug one another impossibly tight. They always search for the other's eyes, and comply with little gestures of affection, to fill that space of sadness that words can never heal. Words were never much the key that seals their bond.

Alex swallows. " _Memories_. Do you remember?" He smiles, thinking back to their first cover of Cohen.

And he made Miles smile as well. "How could I forget? It was the first song you grew fond of I remember."

"And we just released the fucking new cover a few weeks ago! Bloody hell-"

"It's like he just waited for it!" Alex can hear Miles laughing through the words, but he can feel his voice wavering as well. _This_ is what makes it harder for him to suppress that lump forming in his throat.  

He swallows thickly again and stares up at the ceiling. He wants to ask Miles about the other song. About that song.

But Miles is faster. He always is.

"And _Slow_?"

Alex's eyes flood up. He nods again and takes his notebook in his hands. "Yeah.."

On the back of the cover, directly on the pastedown of his own notebook he finds the words. They are inked in Miles' handwriting onto the site, forever carved onto Alex’s heart. Just as his eyes read over the words, Miles resounds them softly in his ear through the speaker:

" _A weekend on your lips, a lifetime in your eyes._ "

A tear finally rolls down Alex's cheeks. A memory of two years ago floods back into his mind. The warmth of Miles' body against him, the softness of his fingertips dancing on his curves and bones. Still sunken between the sheets he sees Miles' slender naked frame sitting up, the image faded with cigarette smoke floating slowly up his lips. He sees him fiddling with the record player on Alex's bedside table and putting the right LP on, before moving to take a pen and Alex's notebook in his hands. A lazy smile forms on Alex's lips...

"I'm slowing down the tune." Alex mutters in the phone.

" _You_ never liked it fast."

Eventually Alex lets out a sob in the form of a weak laugh, for Miles' clever way of changing the pronouns of the original lyrics. He nods to himself and sniffs. "I know. I don't, Miles."

It's on the tip of both their lips to speak those three words to each other, but maybe now isn't the time to think about their selves. This night is made for happy memories.

“He helped us, in bringing us together.” Alex observes, more for himself, licking and chewing his lips.

Miles continues: " _I_ want to go there soon."

"I want to go there last."

And Leonard's voice starts singing in their heads, as loud as their most fond memory.

 _It’s not because I’m old_  
It’s not the life I led  
I always liked it slow  
That’s what my momma said.

 

/ End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback is very appreciated.  
> You can find me on tumblr: [letmewelcomeonstage.tumblr.com](http://letmewelcomeonstage.tumblr.com/)


End file.
